


How To Care For Your Emotionally Constipated Witcher

by Rose_SK



Series: The Writing Corner Discord Bingo Event 2021 [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alive Aiden, Angst, Declarations Of Love, Emotionally Constipated Lambert (The Witcher), Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Helpful Aiden (The Witcher), Insecure Lambert (Witcher), Lambert-centric (The Witcher), Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Vesemir (The Witcher), Minor Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Nightmares, Nonverbal Communication, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soft Aiden (The Witcher), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29355528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_SK/pseuds/Rose_SK
Summary: (A Guide By An Emotionally Competent Witcher)In which Lambert struggles to voice his emotions and Aiden teaches him that there are many different ways to communicate with one another.__Prompt fill: "Because I love you, you idiot" written for The Writing Corner Bingo Challenge on Discord
Relationships: Aiden & Lambert (The Witcher), Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)
Series: The Writing Corner Discord Bingo Event 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125518
Comments: 6
Kudos: 96





	How To Care For Your Emotionally Constipated Witcher

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CreativWit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativWit/gifts).



> I missed the deadline for the bingo event (woops), but I'm still going to post these because the prompts I have left are cute (or steamy) and I need a distraction from uni. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this one. I love how it turned out. Some soft Lambden to celebrate hump day. 
> 
> As ever, a special shoutout to the wonderful CreativWit for being my spitball partner and encouraging me to write all these! Here's an early Valentine's present for you <3 Some loving Lambden goodness, because Lambert deserves to be loved.

The school of the Cat famously used mutagens to enhance young recruits’ emotions. The emotions that the mages targeted were anger, fear, the fight or flight responses, in short any emotion that would yield the greatest amount of adrenaline and send witchers into a frenzy which the mages called “blood rage”. This process turned most initiates into emotionally volatile witchers, bordering on psychopathic. 

Most, not all. 

Aiden wasn’t like that. 

Lambert knew Aiden was different from the second the pair met on the Path. As soon as Lambert realised that the village hired  _ a second  _ witcher to kill the Ogre of Ellander he felt like throwing himself off a cliff. Great. He did not only have to fight the villagers on his prize money, but also eliminate any potential competition. Then Aiden offered to help kill the ogre and split the reward between them, flashing Lambert a radiant smile that rivalled the sun both in light and in intensity. Fuck, Lambert couldn’t remember the last time  _ anyone  _ had smiled at him like that. 

Aiden wasn’t like the other Cat witchers. Aiden was a good man. He was by far the best man Lambert had ever met. So obviously Lambert refused to let Aiden go, and just like that they started working contracts together all the time, travelling the Path together, getting shit-faced in taverns and gambling away all their contract money in one night. Lambert and Aiden were, in Aiden’s own words, the dream team. Lambert could only agree. 

The longer Aiden and Lambert travelled together, the more anxious Lambert became of messing it all up. ‘It’ being the friendship and the complicity that had bloomed between him and Aiden over the months they had spent together. Lambert had a bad habit of sabotaging the only good things that life gave him. Aiden was, admittedly, the best thing that ever happened to Lambert and it terrified him. Why, he couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the fear that Aiden would one day wake up and realise how messed up Lambert truly was in his head. Maybe it was the fact that the thought of Aiden leaving nearly sent Lambert into a panic one day. Maybe it was the realisation that Aiden had come to mean  _ a lot  _ to Lambert. Aiden meant more to him than… well, most things Lambert could think of. He’d probably lay down his own life if it meant saving Aiden’s. 

Lambert would do anything for the best man he had ever known and he didn’t expect anything in return. He certainly didn’t expect Aiden to feel the same way. Why would he? Lambert was a fucking mess. No one in their right mind would ever feel this way about him and even if they did, Lambert wouldn’t know what to do with that information. Aiden, as it turned out, not only knew how to verbally express his emotions (the bastard) but he also expressed them loudly and often (a  _ cocky _ bastard, at that). 

“I’m so glad our paths crossed, wolf.”

“You’re the best fighter I’ve come across in a long while.”

“You always know what to say to cheer me up.”

Lambert could never reciprocate these feelings in  _ words _ , but he certainly felt the exact same way about Aiden. He maybe felt more strongly about the other witcher, but he wouldn’t be caught dead admitting this to anyone, at least, not unless he had irrevocable proof that Aiden returned his feelings.  _ Feelings _ . Lambert sometimes wished the mages at Kaer Morhen had done a better job of ‘stripping’ the initiates of their emotions. It would probably have been the only good thing to come out of those bloody trials. 

Lambert’s fear of messing up was fulfilled sooner than expected. He and Aiden had spent several months together, but winter was fast approaching and Lambert would soon have to make the trek back to Kaer Morhen. He knew he couldn’t ask Aiden to follow him, not when he barely knew the man. He also knew that Vesemir would just about have a heart attack if he saw a Cat witcher march into his keep, and while there was no love lost between Lambert and Vesemir, he didn’t want to have the old wolf’s death on his conscience. The thought of leaving Aiden, though… it scared Lambert, not because it meant spending several months apart, but because the risk of never seeing Aiden again after the winter was ever-present in his mind. The closer the two came to actually going their separate ways, the more agitated Lambert started to feel. He wanted to tell Aiden to meet him in Ard Carraigh in spring, but the words simply wouldn’t leave his mouth, not even when Aiden started noticing the subtle changes in Lambert’s behaviour. 

“Everything alright there, wolf?”

They were sharing a room for the night, probably for the last time in forever, and the thought upset Lambert more than he cared to admit. He merely grunted in response and pretended to be engrossed in the honing of his blade. 

“Wanna talk about it?”

Yes, desperately. Lambert just didn’t know how to, and to make matters worse, his constricting throat made it increasingly hard to swallow, nevermind  _ speak _ . Lambert felt the panic rise in him, but years of repressing his own emotions had prepared him well. Lambert pretended that everything was fine on the outside by schooling his expression into one of neutrality and by staying focused on his task at hand.  _ Shink, shink, shink _ .  Lambert vaguely heard Aiden shift on the mattress and lean over the edge of the bed to rummage through his packs. Lambert didn’t let that distract him from his task.  _ Shink, shink, shink _ . Aiden pulled something out of his bag, rose to his feet and walked to where Lambert was sitting in a rickety chair near the window sill. 

“Wolf?” Lambert looked up at the mention of his nickname and momentarily lost himself in Aiden’s yellow-green eyes. “Here.”

Lambert looked down and noticed Aiden holding his own personal notebook and a piece of charcoal in his hands. Lambert frowned, but his throat still felt too tight and his mind was still racing too fast, so that he couldn’t bring himself to voice his confusion in words. Aiden offered a reassuring smile. 

“If you won’t  _ tell  _ me what the matter is, then maybe you can write it down?”

Lambert’s eyes widened at those words. He was left speechless, which was saying something considering that Lambert always had a witty comeback at hand. Years of masking his emotions behind a wall of sarcasm did that to a man. Lambert absent-mindedly put his whetstone and sword away before shakily reaching for the notebook and charcoal. He opened the leatherbound book to a blank page and began writing. 

_ Meet me in Ard Carraigh at the beginning of spring?  _

He then handed the notebook back to Aiden. A small smile graced the Cat witcher’s lips upon reading the words written in Lambert’s squiggely handwriting. Lambert’s cheeks turned an interesting shade of pink when Aiden’s gaze met his. If Lambert was at all poetically inclined, he’d say that Aiden’s eyes had their own light that shone brighter than all the stars in the sky. 

Lambert wasn’t the poetic type, though, so he kept that comment to himself. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” was all Aiden said in return, before scribbling a neat ‘yes’ on the same page. 

And just like that, Lambert was able to breathe again. 

__________

Nightmares weren’t exactly a rare occurrence in the life of a witcher. In their line of work - fighting monsters, putting their life on the line in exchange for pitiful salaries, killing things - it was inevitable to have nightmares. Lambert had grown used to them and had accepted that they were an integral part of his life at this point. Dreaming of being chewed up by wyverns, clawed to death by a griffin or be gutted by a group of drowners? Piece of cake, he wouldn’t even break a sweat. He didn’t qualify these dreams as nightmares anymore. However there were those dreams that always had Lambert waking up a shaking (and crying) mess. The Trial of the Grasses. Voltehre dying at the hand of Old Speartip. The sacking of Kaer Morhen. His father. 

On that particular night, Lambert dreamed of Voltehre.

Lambert’s only friend. His  _ closest  _ friend. Voltehre had been to Lambert what Geralt still was to Eskel. Voltehre died because of the hubris of some deranged megalomaniac mages. Voltehre died because the instructors insisting on this ceremonial trial that had exactly zero effect on their ability as witchers. Voltehre also died because Old Speartip had been allowed to live in that mountain despite there being an entire army of highly trained witchers nearby who could have easily killed him. Voltehre didn’t deserve to die. He would have made a damn good witcher had he been given the chance. 

Voltehre died unfairly. Lambert would never forget the terrified expression on his friend’s face when he slipped and fell right onto Old Speartip, waking the ogre up and triggering his rage. Lambert would never forget being pulled away from the scene by another boy and having to listen to Voltehre’s agonised screams and the sound of bone crunching as Old Speartip killed him. Lambert would also never forget his own guilty feelings. He should have tried to save Voltehre, his only friend. He should have killed Old Speartip himself to avenge Voltehre’s memory later in life. He shouldn’t have survived. 

Lambert woke up that night covered in a fine sheen of sweat, heart and mind racing, hands shaking. He was crying. The last thing he saw before his eyes shot open was Voltehre’s terrified face as Old Speartip grabbed him. The world was spinning, disorienting Lambert more than he already was. 

_ Lambert. _

A voice was calling out to him. It sounded faint, like someone was shouting at him across a long distance. The voice sounded familiar. 

“Lambert, what’s happening?”

The voice sounded closer now. Lambert flinched away from it until his back hit something hard and rough. When Lambert couldn’t move back any further he brought his knees to his chest for comfort. Tears were still streaming down his cheeks. 

“Lambert, please…” 

_ Save me Lambert, please.  _

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” Lambert heard himself repeat the apology over, and over, and over. He knew it wouldn’t bring his friend back, but Voltehre deserved at least that. An apology. It was all Lambert could offer. That, and the assurance that if he had the chance to go back in time he certainly would die trying to avenge Voltehre by killing Old Speartip. 

“Lambert, it’s Aiden. I’m here. You’re safe.” 

_ Aiden _ . Lambert recognised that name. He could place a face to that name. Aiden, with the yellow-green eyes, the freckles across the bridge of his nose, the radiant smile. Aiden with the dirty blonde hair framing his handsome face.  _ His  _ Aiden. 

“You recognise me, wolf?” Lambert nodded, pulling a relieved sigh from Aiden. “Good. Do you think you can look at me?”

Lambert didn’t know if he could, but he was damn willing to try. He inhaled deeply, as if composing himself, before lifting his head far enough so his amber eyes gazed into Aiden’s yellowish ones. Aiden rewarded his efforts with a smile which had Lambert’s stomach flip like a landborne fish. 

“Hey, wolf. Gave me quite a scare there. How’re you feeling?” 

Lambert couldn’t speak, not because he wasn’t able to, but because he didn’t trust his voice not to break. It was embarrassing enough that Aiden had to witness this pitiful display. Lambert didn’t want to add to his humiliation by meeting his friend’s question with a string of choked sobs. 

“Not ready to talk yet?” Aiden asked in a kind voice. Lambert shook his head. “That’s fine. Can you write?” Again, Lambert shook his head. His hands would probably not be steady enough to hold a charcoal, yet alone write with it. Aiden had every right to bolt right about then and Lambert wouldn’t have thought any less of his friend for it. Who in their right mind would willingly put up with the mess that Lambert was? Aiden deserved better. Aiden deserved someone who didn’t break down after a stupid nightmare. Lambert was broken. Broken toys were never fun to play with. 

“Let’s try something different, alright wolf? When I ask you a question, tap your knee once for yes and twice for no. Think you can manage that?”

Lambert’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. Why was Aiden not leaving him? Why was he still here, trying to accommodate Lambert’s momentary muteness? Lambert didn’t deserve this kindness. And yet, something about Aiden’s soft expression and the reassuring smile playing on his lips compelled Lambert to at least  _ try  _ to follow his friend’s instructions. 

_ Tap _ . 

“Thank you. Did you have a nightmare?” 

_ Tap _ . 

“Was it about the Trial of the Grasses again?” 

_ Tap tap. _

Aiden frowned at that last response and Lambert was grateful that his system only allowed for ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions. He didn’t feel like explaining this nightmare to Aiden. Lambert didn’t want to give Aiden any reasons to leave his side, and leaving your childhood best friend to die at the hands of Old Speartip? Even Aiden couldn’t defend Lambert’s actions on that one. 

“Can I touch you?”

Lambert hesitated briefly before giving his answer.  _ Tap _ . Aiden beamed at him and the sight warmed Lambert’s insides in the best way possible. The other witcher shuffled closer until he was sitting right next to Lambert, his own back pressed against the boulder behind them and his thighs pressed close to Lambert’s. Aiden then slid his hand into Lambert’s and intertwined their fingers together. He gave Lambert’s hand a firm squeeze. 

“I have nightmares too, you know. We all do. You don’t have to feel ashamed.”

Lambert didn’t respond as he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. Aiden squeezed his hand again, grounding him, pulling him back to the present. Aiden’s hold was the only thing that stopped Lambert from spiralling into the dark pits of his own mind. 

“That nightmare you just had… is it one you have often?”  _ Tap tap. No.  _ “Well that certainly explains your reaction then. You know I don’t think any less of you for that, right?”

Lambert didn’t know how to respond so he remained quiet and, forgoing the tapping, squeezed Aiden’s hand instead.  _ Don’t leave. Please. I can’t lose another friend _ . 

Aiden held firmly onto Lambert’s hand until sunrise. 

__________

Lambert ended up telling Aiden about Voltehre several weeks after the incident. Aiden, as usual, showed just the right amount of empathy and compassion without falling into pity. Lambert admired that about his friend - his ability to sound so genuinely sorry without the condescendence that other people often mustered in these situations. Even Geralt and Eskel, if at all inclined or indeed able to show compassion, often just ended up looking constipated.

Aiden started holding Lambert’s hand a lot more and the latter found himself enjoying the casual intimacy. They never held hands in public - they had a reputation to uphold, after all - but when it was just the two of them out in the wild, Aiden would hold Lambert’s hand a lot. It was reassuring, in a way, a constant reminder that Lambert wasn’t alone.  Hand holding turned into kissing, kissing into something more and soon after, Aiden and Lambert became lovers. Lambert kept reminding himself not to read too much into it. It was just sex, a momentary relief, a way to get rid of the anxious feelings that settled in both his and Aiden’s chests after difficult contracts. Nothing more, nothing less. It stayed like that for a while and Lambert managed to convince himself that there was nothing more than sexual tension between him and Aiden, but then the bastard started kissing him at the most random times, whispering sweet nothings in his ear during sex, nibbling at the sensitive skin where his jaw and throat met. Aiden became increasingly more  _ tender  _ whereas Lambert, confused by the sudden displays of affection, retreated into his shell. 

Sex was easy, primal, easily dismissed as nothing more than a natural urge, an itch that occasionally needed scratching. There was a difference between fucking and making love, and Aiden was drifting deeper and deeper into ‘making love’ territory. And instead of reining him back in, Lambert, the dumbass, let himself be blindly led into this unknown territory that was sex with emotions until eventually he began enjoying the tender ministrations and softly spoken praises  _ more  _ than the sex itself. It was dangerous and Lambert knew he was standing on thin fucking ice, but he couldn’t help it. Aiden was like the first rays of sun in spring or the first taste of fresh honey after days of fasting… warm, sweet and familiar. It was easy for Lambert to lose himself when Aiden made him feel like the most precious thing in the whole of the Continent.

If Lambert were at all poetically inclined...

Aiden was the first one to say the three magic words that Lambert dreaded the most. It was a day like any other, except for the fact that they woke up to find that the first frost of the year had settled over the fields and that only meant one thing. Lambert would soon set out for Kaer Morhen, and he and Aiden would go their separate ways for winter. The prospect of not seeing each other for three or four months was, somehow, worse on the both of them this time round. 

“Come to Kaer Morhen with me,” Lambert blurted out one frosty morning on their way to Novigrad, “fuck what the old wolf says.”

“I don’t want to come between you and your family, Lambert,” Aiden reasoned, and of course he would, because he was just like Eskel in that respect. Aiden always had to be the voice of reason. He had this pathological need to always be the bigger man even if it meant dismissing his own feelings. 

“Fuck them. I don’t care what they think. If they can’t fucking be happy for me, then that’s their problem.”

Aiden raised an eyebrow at these words, but didn’t comment on them. There were so many things Lambert wished to say.  _ I don’t want to spend another minute without you. I miss you the minute we go our separate ways. You’re the most important person in the world to me.  _ Everytime Lambert went to voice these thoughts, his stomach twisted in all the wrong ways. What if Aiden didn’t feel the same way? What if Aiden realised how needy Lambert truly was and left? What if Aiden mocked him? 

So Lambert didn’t say a fucking word as they rode into Novigrad in silence. 

They split the cost of a room and a warm meal between themselves. That night, all Lambert and Aiden did was curl up in the uncomfortable bed and bask in each other’s warmth, both far too exhausted and drained to do anything else. Aiden was the first to break the companionable silence that had stretched between them. 

“You’re right. Fuck what Vesemir says. I don’t want to spend another winter apart. I’ll come to Kaer Morhen with you and come what may, I’ll prove to your family that I’m different.”

Lambert felt his heart swell in his chest at those words. A pleased grin graced his lips as he tilted his head and stole a kiss from Aiden, who let out the softest of moans in response. Lambert was unbelievably relieved and happy at the thought of spending winter with Aiden. A warm, pleasant feeling unfurled in his stomach at the thought of introducing Aiden to the other wolves. The look on their faces would be priceless, Lambert knew that much, but it would all be worth it if he got to enjoy Aiden’s company for the entire winter. Lambert eventually broke the kiss in favour of burying his face in the crook of Aiden’s neck. Just as he was about to drift off into a peaceful sleep Lambert heard Aiden whisper a hushed ‘I love you’ into his ear. Lambert tensed instantly and as he went to pull away from Aiden, he heard the other witcher add in an equally soft tone: 

“You don’t have to say it back or anything. I just needed you to know how I feel about you.”

And it wasn’t like Lambert didn’t feel the same way, because he did. Very much so. He had loved Aiden for longer than he cared to admit. It was the pressure of reciprocating these words that terrified Lambert. A pressure which Aiden had so kindly taken off his shoulders, and while his words were laced with good intention, Lambert still felt like he was expected to voice his feelings for Aiden out loud. He wanted to, he really did, but he simply  _ couldn’t _ . 

“Lambert? I’m sorry if it’s too soon. I… I should’ve waited…”

Seeing Aiden so vulnerable and insecure did things to Lambert’s heart. As their eyes met, Lambert suddenly had an illumination. He remembered the first time he noticed Geralt and Eskel openly show their affection for one another in public. It was shortly after the sacking of Kaer Morhen, a time of uncertainty for all of them. Eskel and Geralt had been together, well, forever really, but it was only after the sacking that they admitted their feelings for one another. Never with words, Lambert noted, but in subtler ways.

If it worked for these two idiots, there was no reason why it shouldn’t work for Lambert too. It was certainly worth a shot. 

“Can I…,” Lambert cleared his throat when the words nearly got stuck in his throat, “can I try something?”

“What?”

“You know how… you came up with your tapping system?” Lambert looked up at Aiden, uncertainty written plainly across his face. Aiden’s expression softened at the sight and he met the younger witcher’s words with a brief nod of the head. “I… I can’t say those words back to you, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel the same way. So… what if I used… a similar system instead?” 

At these words, Aiden’s face broke into a radiant smile, the kind that made Lambert want to kiss him until the end of their days. 

“Squeeze twice for ‘I love you’?” Aiden suggested. Lambert responded by squeezing Aiden’s bicep twice. “Yeah, that could work.”

From that moment onwards, not a day went by where Lambert didn’t let Aiden know how much he was loved. 

__________

Aiden’s welcome was… cool, but not hostile. Lambert considered it a small victory that Vesemir hadn’t outright sent Aiden on his merry way down the mountain again. He wasn’t too sure whether it was because Vesemir genuinely didn’t want to have the Cat’s death on his conscience or because Lambert threatened to follow Aiden down that mountain if people had a problem with him wintering at the keep.  It didn’t matter in the end. Aiden was here,  _ with him _ , and that’s all Lambert wanted. 

That evening, after a quiet supper, Vesemir retreated to his room in a huff. Geralt and Eskel, on the other hand, stayed behind and brought out the vodka and the moonshine. Lambert wasn’t about to complain. If he could at least get one of his brothers on their side it might end up making all the difference. Eskel poured everyone a healthy serving of vodka and they all drank late into the night. The drunker they got, the looser their tongues became. 

"So… a Cat.” Geralt paused long enough to burp discreetly - well, as discreetly as drunk Geralt was able to - before resuming. “Of all the people, you brought back a  _ Cat _ .” 

Lambert bit the inside of his cheek, preparing himself for a confrontation. He could and would get defensive over Aiden. 

“Yeah. Got a problem with that, pretty boy, you can fuck right off.”

“Calm down, Lambert,” Eskel slurred, his speech considerably slower after all the vodka he drank, but still surprisingly clear, “we ain’t judgin’, pup.”

“You maybe aren’t, but Vesemir is,” Lambert interjected angrily, “old man barely acknowledged me since I got here. He’s even more dismissive of me than usual. Look me in the eye and tell me it’s not because I dared bring a Cat witcher back home!”

Lambert could feel the anger rising in him, but when he suddenly felt Aiden’s hand on his thigh, the feelings subsided ever so slightly. Aiden tapped his leg twice -  _ no. don’t do that  _ \- before squeezing the muscle there twice. Lambert instinctively responded with two squeezes of his own and managed to calm down. The scene, however discreet, did not go unnoticed by Eskel. 

“I mean, out of the three of us, only you could drag in a  _ Cat _ ,” Geralt added before taking a swig of his own drink. 

“Don’t be an ass,” Eskel reprimanded his lover before setting his amber eyes on Aiden, “it’s none of our business who Lambert takes to bed or who he socialises with. But one toe out of line, Cat, and we’re coming for you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Aiden responded with an easy smile playing on his lips.

That night, when Lambert and Aiden retreated to Lambert’s room after helping Eskel haul Geralt into bed, the youngest wolf shot his lover an apologetic look. 

“Sorry you had to deal with them. They’re all bark and no… well, they do bite occasionally. And they  _ would  _ bite you if they thought you were a treat to the pack, but-”

“Lambert, stop it,” Aiden gently pulled Lambert closer to him until their bodies were pressed together and he was able to rest his hands on Lambert’s hips, “it’s okay. You don’t have to apologise for your brothers wanting to keep you safe.”

“Urgh,” Lambert rolled his eyes at Aiden’s words, “not you, too. They don’t  _ have  _ to keep me safe, I can take care of myself.”

“I know, kitten,” Aiden squeezed Lambert’s hips twice, “I know. Still, it’s good to know they have your back.”

“I suppose. You know, after today, I wonder why you still put up with me and my crazy family.”

“Because I love you, you idiot,” said Aiden, like his feelings for Lambert were the reason he did anything, “and I’ll take your crazy family and your nonverbal quirks over all the riches on the Continent.”

Lambert felt himself blush at those words.  “Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, “you’re such a sap. But I love that about you”

“ _ Fuck _ . I love you, too,” said Aiden before catching Lambert’s lips in a heated kiss. 

If Lambert were at all poetically inclined, he’d say that Aiden’s kisses tasted of sunshine, happiness and home. Aiden, the best man he had ever known, wasn’t going anywhere and neither was Lambert. 

Poetry could go to fuck. 


End file.
